AN invitation from one of my old seminary professors to write
an appreciation of a former faculty associate sent me to "the
trunk room" to rummage. Sentiment moves us to keep souvenirs
not only of youthful triumphs but of mental effort, and it was
a box of notes taken in lectures in Dogmatic Theology which I
sought in my trunk room--an inadequate substitute for the spacious
attic of a certain rectory which I inhabited for eleven years.
Twice each year that attic had to be cleaned and straightened
out. Each time my old negro servant would beseech me to throw
away "that box of paper which you never open, and never
will."

I thought I should never refer to those notes, but I kept
them because of their association with a man I venerated. Priests
may not always have stored away in their secret lives little
packets of letters tied with a ribbon, or a glove, or a pressed
flower, but most likely there will be some things which mean
much to them and nothing to others.

And so when I moved some fifteen months ago I brought the
box of notes along, though I knew common sense demanded that
they be given no place in the moving van.

Of a sudden last Monday I became conscious of why I had clung
to those notes which had never been looked at since I left the
General Theological Seminary eighteen years ago, for turning
over the pages of the daily paper I found that Francis Joseph
Hall had died: Doctor Hall who had been our professor of Dogmatic
Theology when I was in the Seminary: Doctor Hall whose notes
I kept these many years, never looking at them, but still treasuring
them because they were a link between my life and one of the
most holy men I have ever known.

So today I went to the trunk room to look out those notes.
I wished to discover what brought forth a storm of applause at
the end of one of his lectures shortly after his advent at the
General. This is what I found: "Gentlemen, the Faith is
a precious jewel given to man by God. Treasure it and defend
it, and in time you will find life's experience proving its value
and its meaning"; then, his voice rising to a high pitch,
"God has no greater gift for you."

Doctor Hall was interested in no abstruse subject for its
own sake, nor was he primarily interested in scholarship; he
was not first a teacher, nor even a defender of the Faith. He
was interested in and loved all these things because he was first,
last, and all the time a great lover of God. I think he was a
passionate lover of God. That love most surely lay behind the
reason for his insatiable quest for the minutest details of any
learning which would bring him further knowledge of God. And
he loved God in no abstract way, but he had a firm grasp of the
reality of God and of all spiritual things; God was vital in
his life and he had a very close, personal relationship with
him. One morning, after he had vested for Mass, before we had
left the sacristy for the altar, I saw him turning the pages
of a note book as he prayed. He later showed that book to me.
In it were the names of numerous persons, living and departed,
for whom he was about to offer the Holy Sacrifice. From him I
gained my first idea of ordered intercessory prayer and Mass
intentions. He prayed ceaselessly, and no one valued or used
sacramental grace with more frequency, regularity, and knowledge
of its power. No one knew better the atoning power of Christ's
Sacrifice presented in the Mass. He loved God and, I believe,
lived his life in God's Presence.

Doctor Hall was more than a bit of a saint, therefore, if
we mean by a saint one who has surrendered himself completely
to God. One hesitates to declare saints, yet we all meet people
now and again whom we know to be such. Miss Sheila Kaye-Smith,
the novelist, is reported to have given as the reason for her
departure from the Anglican Communion that she had come to the
opinion that it does not produce saints. Surely she could not
have meant that we produce no saints simply because we have no
formal saint-making machinery, such as the Church of Rome! And
if she meant that the Anglican Church had not the spiritual vitality
to rear saints, she exhibited, a limitation in her otherwise
piercing penetration.

It may appear presumptuous for me to suggest that Doctor Hall
was far advanced in sanctity. The reader might well say, "There
is no use reading this article further; the writer is unreliable,
for he is a hero-worshipper." Granted, but of the several
heroes the writer has known, Doctor Hall is the only one in whose
character there is no flaw to overlook, no apology required for
some infirmity, no explaining away some peculiarity. I knew Doctor
Hall for a score of years, and so far as I know no one ever had
to make allowance for any defect. That is more than can be said
for most of the saints who have been formally canonized. He is
a proof that the Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion,
has all the vitality necessary to produce holiness. But, on the
one hand, some one will point out that one does not necessarily
have to be a Christian in order to be a saint. Gandhi is so regarded
by his followers, I believe, and not a few Christians unhesitatingly
call him such. But a Catholic saint is different from other saints,
and Doctor Hall was saintly in the Catholic sense. On the other
hand, some one will demand a miracle for evidence. His miracle
was in making his character what it was and devoting himself
as he did in spite of what would have been to most people an
overwhelming obstacle. I refer to his total deafness, which,
I understand, afflicted him from the age of twenty. Surely the
great miracle is to change self into a recognizable image of
our Lord.

A consuming love for God--a love that consumed self--was the
key to Doctor Hall's life.

That love led him to be a scholar. "A good man is always
a learner," so says a proverb. He followed the traditional
ways of Catholic scholarship--the Fathers, the holy Doctors,
and the Church's formularies. One can not help but be conscious
of how thoroughly he was imbued with Saint Thomas Aquinas. But
his scholarship did not end there. He carefully read and considered
in all fields of knowledge, especially in philosophy and theology.
Of course, he looked at all learning from what he conceived to
be the Church's point of view; he used it if it supported or
threw any new light on revealed Truth, and he refuted it if he
believed it to be injurious. It is but necessary to look at his
full bibliographies, indexes, and numerous and meticulous footnotes
to see what a voluminous and constant reader he must have been
all his life, how extensive the field over which he ranged, and
how he sincerely studied and weighed what he read. To those who
were privileged to visit him in his library he appeared to be
even a greater student and thinker, for there were shelves upon
shelves of indexed notes. It was amazing.

It may be that some of our present day theologians will look
upon his twelve or more volumes as of no ultimate consequence.
The critical method seems to be taking us more and more back
to the traditional Catholic position. By Catholic position I
do not mean Fundamentalism, of course. Doctor Hall was in no
sense a Fundamentalist. On the other hand one doubts that he
could have gone all the way with not a few of our Anglo-Catholic
theologians of today. But it may be that the difference between
them is a matter of temperament and need. Personally I have no
criticism to offer, since one can be reasonably sure that a sincere
lover of God, living a life of prayer and in the power of the
sacraments, who is trying to meet the need of his day, will not
stray far from Truth. But Doctor Hall always knew where he stood,
and why he stood there. His position was ultra conservative,
but he believed in it, and he gave those of us who were fortunate
enough to sit under him a foundation which has proven a rock.
He did well to turn out for parish priests lovers of God rather
than critics. So far as I know none of his students have ever
belittled the importance of dogmatic theology, much less played
fast and loose with it. His students are honest. Rather did he
give us a wholesome respect for the Church and her teaching,
at the same time exhorting us to despoil the Egyptians by taking
all truth which might be garnered from any source. He was a great
teacher, therefore.

But he did a finer thing: he taught us to love God first of
all, even as he did. And that was undoubtedly a secondary reason
for his constant inquiry for further knowledge, to teach future
priests to love God so that they in turn might teach men to do
so. While he presented his subject in a classified manner yet
it never seemed dry, for the instinct back of his teaching was
pastoral. That probably explains why he often attained to sublime
heights in his lectures not to be found in his writings. Teaching
was not a vocation within itself to him; it was a part of his
priesthood.

Doctor Hall's books are stilted, undoubtedly due to the fact
of his total deafness which prevented any appreciation of sound,
color, or rhythm in writing. But his books make a fine foundation
upon which to build, even though they are hard to read. As a
scholar and teacher it can be most truly said that he served
his Church and his day rarely well. He gave not only the best
he had to his vocation, but he gave his all, and Doctor Hall's
all was very fine indeed.

But Doctor Hall's character was his supreme attainment. From
what has been written that must already be obvious. Being a lover
of God he was possessed of a heavenly charity and a divine humor.
Deafness is supposed to make people suspicious and unhappy. That
was in no sense true in his case. There was nothing but generosity
in his consideration of others. Disciplined in mind and personal
living to a rare degree he emanated a benignity, a grace and
sweetness which was almost fragrant. The sweetness of his lips
undoubtedly increased his learning, to paraphrase the Wise Man.
His interior austerity enabled him to be most kind to others.
Who of us does not remember his smile! His real strength lay
not in his monumental scholarship or in his teaching ability,
but in that he was possessed of a great Christian character.
He was a great priest, not only in his work but in his being.
He could accomplish what he did because he was first of all a
holy man.

"O most excellent teacher, thou light of holy Church,
thou lover of the divine law, entreat for us the Son of God."